Heroes in distress
by Isabella1020
Summary: They were no longer children. They were not adults. They were heroes.  A collection of H/Hr drabbles, post-war. A/U.


Heroes in distress, a collection of H/Hr drabbles. The order is not necessarily chronological and many of these (if not most) are, to some extent, A/U. All furiously ship Harry/Hermione. Sorry about that. If you're a Ron/Hermione or Harry/Ginny shipper, you'll probably hate my guts after reading this.

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K. Rowling, of course. If I'd ever owned the saga, I probably wouldn't have had to write this in the first place.

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><p><span>1.<span> Goodbye.

His arms are around her. Her heart pounds madly –he feels its beats through the many layers of his clothes, senses his own heart accelerating its pace in response, and he wonders if it's the last time he'll ever embrace her. The thought of it it's enough to take his breath away. Of all the things the Dark Lord has taken from him, of all the misery he's experienced, it is this potential loss he suffers the most –a life without Hermione is unconceivable-, the one he'd be most willing to avenge. A somber, oppressive determination fills his veins like venom, and he realizes he has to leave before it goes away and he is paralyzed by panic. He inhales the scent of her hair and closes his eyes only for a second, imagining, wishing, hoping –promising himself that even if he has to die, she must not share his destiny. She cannot die for him. She won't. He stares into Ron's eyes, sending a message. His friend nods imperceptibly, understanding.

_Keep her safe or else I swear on my name I'll come right back from the grave to kick your bloody ass. _

She unravels herself from his arms uneager, tearfully, and steps back.

He turns around and onwards he goes, to face Death's servants.

2. Forgive us now for what we've done.

She can't stand _O Children _anymore. "The mere sound of it reminds me of the War", she told her husband. The truth? That song brings back painful memories of a desperate, hopeless, heartbreaking moment of joy amidst the world's sheerest desolation. Of two young people immersed in a battle they had not asked for yet couldn't escape from. Of a boy who had no choice other than meeting his fate (however deadly it might be.) Of a girl who had chosen to stay with him (she'd vowed to protect him and that oath only was keeping her alive) even if it killed her. Of two almost-lovers, almost-soul mates, lost and alone and frightened and helpless. Of the only dance they ever had. Of how she walked away after it ended. Of the way that simple act tore them both to pieces.

3. Decadence.

The Boy-Who-Lived has grown to be a man (not without incommensurable pain.) A man who wishes he could, for once, get what he wants instead of what the world thinks it's best for him.

The Brightest-Witch-of-her-Age doesn't recognize herself anymore. Her prodigious mind accumulates cobwebs as she compliantly undertakes her housewife duties. (Cooking, cleaning and babysitting? Definitely not so thrilling as using her intelligence to help her best friend eradicate an evil wizard from the world.)

4. Connection.

_None of the others had noticed a thing._

Only Hermione knows how lonely he feels. The Chosen One might have won the War, but the weight of the loss he's caused (and suffered) rests overpowering and omnipresent on his tired shoulders. She just wants to take that burden and make it disappear. She'd like to hug him as tightly as possible, to whisper in his ear that she's there for him, that everything will be alright, that this too shall pass (even if she herself finds it hard to believe most times.) Yet she can't do such things, for he is not hers to comfort. It's simple, in fact, and as the very smart girl she is, she comprehends it perfectly: he has a wife, she has a husband. She cannot interfere in his life and vice versa. Simple. (Painful, but simple.)

So she just offers him a small smile every time he sees him, hoping he'll understand why she can't just be _closer -_even if it kills her to know that he's suffering and no one else can tell.

5. Questions.

He wonders what will happen when his wife becomes tired of his frequent night terrors.

He wonders what will happen when sorrow doesn't let him be a good father anymore.

He wonders what will happen when he can no longer pretend.

He wonders what will happen when they realize that the Hero needs saving.

6. Animals.

One day she discovered –not without dismay- that her Patronus had taken the form of a stag.

7. Ravenousness.

It's still there. Ticking and ticking like a bomb waiting to go off. Pulsing beneath the skin like a secret. Whispering in the dark like a ghost. Sparkling in the air in the rare moments when they are alone together (_like that maddening day in the tent when he held her and swayed her and almost_). They never hear the call. They hope that ignoring the longing will eventually make it go away. They're mistaken. The hunger grows fiercer by the day.

8. Liars.

They haven't told her husband about the kiss. They've told _themselves _(repeatedly) that it didn't mean anything. That it was just a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. But she felt so awkward afterwards that avoided being in the same room with him for months. And he felt so guilty that simply couldn't look at his best friend in the eye and say honestly that everything was alright.

Every time someone talks about her wedding –one of the first multiple ceremonies that took place after the end of the War-, she smiles politely and excuses herself saying she doesn't even recall all of it. "It's been so long", she apologizes.

She's lying, though -she remembers _everything _in detail.

Especially the day of their first kiss.

9. Habits.

She doesn't read so much anymore. Whenever she does, it's _The Tales of Beedle the Bard _that appears in front of her eyes, as well as that forsaken tent, and it's her own voice she hears -trembling, as if she was about to fall to her knees with exhaustion- saying _"__Maybe we should just stay here, Harry… and grow old.__"_ It's a memory, of course, and after a fleeting moment of rapture, it passes. But every time it happens she feels a little weaker – as though she'd only survived the War to die years after of a broken heart.

10. Offspring.

He sees her children and it physically aches that they're not _theirs_. That their hair is red, not black; that their eyes are blue, instead of green or brown. That they don't call him _Dad_, but _Uncle Harry. _That when the corners of their mouths curl upwards, he doesn't see a reflection of his own smile -not even her openly kind grin. They're Weasleys. Just like his own kids.

11. Honest mistake.

Once she looked at her son and absentmindedly thought his irises were emerald. Her jaw fell open. "Harry…" Her son –a two year old baby at the time- said nothing, but furrowed his brow in confusion to mimic his Mommy's funny face. She covered her mouth with her hands, astonished. "I'm going crazy", she mumbled, reaching for the baby and lifting him up in his arms. As she rocked him sideways while walking slowly in circles, she tried to keep the tears from down pouring, but failed. The first drops fell on top of Hugo's head and he looked up, drowsily surprised. Hermione kissed her baby on the forehead and whispered endless apologies.

She's been–for years now- learning to cope with the side effects of harboring a secret love for someone who isn't –will never be- hers.

However, she cannot get used to how bad a mother it makes her.

12. Helpless truth. 

It's really shameful how she (constantly) feels empty as a cup although she has a husband, loving children, friends, and that cheerfully ordinary life that many would die for (and literally did, sacrificing themselves so that others could survive the War.) She thinks about it often and has come to the conclusion that she is a terribly ungrateful, self-pitying idiot. This, though, doesn't keep her from waking up every day wishing she'd dare going back in time to make different choices and turn her life upside down.

13. Beginning.

They were instantly infatuated with each other from the moment they met, even if they didn't know it. Being the quiet, reserved people they were, no one ever noticed. If anything, the others sometimes sensed only the surface of that profound link between them.

People called it friendship.

At first Hermione would cry herself to sleep every other night and lament over how she'd never be good enough for The Chosen One. At first Harry would punch his pillows and curse loudly because jealousy (and maybe intuition as well) suggested that Hermione would never see him as anything more than a friend. His best friend, maybe, but, Hell, who wanted friendship when you could have love?

In the end, these were just typically teenage outbursts.

It wasn't long until they learned to settle and sacrifice.

14. Timeless. 

She reminisces. (What can she do when there's nothing else to distract her from the boredom of her housewife life?)

_It was her wedding day. He'd co__me looking for her and she'd let him in, thinking he might want to go over his best-man duties as regards walking her down the aisle_.

_Yet those were not, by any means, his intentions. Timid, heartfelt confessions were followed by bold s__uggestions voiced in whispers at first. As she shook her head, too shocked to speak, the shouting of You_ can't_ and _What about us_ and _Stop this_ began. But her silence seemed unbreakable. _

_H__e took two steps forward and the distance between them disappeared. He leaned into her with tears in his eyes. She caved into the kiss, lost as she was in the undeniable immensity of their love and the impossible force of her desire. It was a sweet surrender. _

And it's as though time has not passed, because she can feel its intensity, its helplessness, the fiery movement of her mouth against his –_even when her brain was screaming that it was wrong, that she must not, that she was getting married that day to another man, for the love of God_. She feels his arms wrapped around her waist, softly but firmly. (Deliciously trapped.) She feels the butterflies in her stomach, her involuntary smiling in the middle of the kiss.

_Two realizations hit her__ simultaneously: she knew that she'd been fooling herself for years, and that it was too late to do something about it. _

"_No."_

_Her only word, a command for him to leave. He left. All of a sudden he'd become obedient to her every order. _

She hates that she made him walk away from her, from them, from what could have been. The fact that she was the one to end _it_ before it started still makes her chest ache. (After all this time. Always.)

15. Wanderlust.

It happens all too often, either the horizon is clear or the day is stormy. They get this instinctive need to run away leaving it all behind. They consider for the hundredth time, wide-eyed and hopeful, the endless possibilities of a fresh start together. And their hearts are filled with joyful anticipation.

Then of course, they remember the mess they would be in if they escaped, the hearts they would break, the families they'd destroy –and just like that, the dream is over once more, the world starts reeling them back in.

So it's just growing old –but not together.

16. Change.

"Harry, no." She pushes him away softly, unwillingly, pressing the palm of her hands to his warm chest. The tears taste bitter in comparison to the sweetness lingering on her lips. "We can't do this. You've gone _mad_."

Despite the tension of the moment, he spontaneously laughs. If something on Earth he finds adorable, it is Hermione saying that word. _Mad._ "No, 'Mione. What we lived in the war was mad. Both of us marrying other people is mad. You and I –that's by far the most logic, reasonable thing I've ever offered you to join me in."

Her stern features give in to her mouth curling upwards in a reluctant, tiny smile. "I hate it when you're right."


End file.
